


that season of beginning

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [184]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Elemental Magic, F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the turn of the year, the anthropomorphic personifications of the four seasons gather, as they always do, plotting out the next year’s weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that season of beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Title: that season of beginning  
> Original, gen, PG for mild language  
> 500 words  
> Prompt: Any, any, anthropomorphic personification of autumn  
> Title from Truman Capote. Set in 2014.  
> Note: Winter is somewhat inspired by Jack Frost in _Rise of the Guardians_ *hee*

Her hair is bright orange this century, though the tips are a soft yellow. She typically wears brown capris and a red, long-sleeved shirt, with rainbow flats on her feet. 

She’s forever eighteen, this life, and getting really fucking tired of it all. 

.

At the turn of the year, the four gather, as they always do, plotting out the next year’s weather. 

“I’m going to be _brutal_ ,” Winter tells them, cackling. “My time, bitches!” He’s wearing all black, with dark stripes in his white hair. He’s young-looking this life, younger even than Autumn. 

Spring frowns at him, looking like a harmless little old lady, decked out in a neon green dress and wide-brimmed purple hat. “Don’t be too harsh, dear,” she says, but the order is plain beneath the kind words. You don’t fuck with Spring. 

Winter pouts at her but doesn’t respond. 

Summer is shirtless, of course, wearing swim-trunks with sharks on them. He’s somewhere between Spring and Autumn in age, and he’s dancing to music none of them can hear. “I vote hurricanes this year,” he says, twirling with a laugh. “All the hurricanes!” 

Autumn rolls her eyes. 

.

They cast votes – Spring is against anything too volatile, but Winter wants to go to _work_ , and Summer wants huge waves and heat, and Autumn really does not give a fuck. She needs a vacation. 

After Winter and Summer take their leave, Spring sits Autumn down with a cup of iced tea. “You’re young,” she says. “Younger than us.” She sips the tea while Autumn avoids her gaze. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of us; we were all young once.” She smiles, reaching out to pat Autumn’s hand. “There are eight months until your equinox, Autumn. Take a rest ‘til then. Read. Dance. If you like, date. Travel.” 

Autumn blinks at her. “I can do that? But –”

Spring raises an eyebrow. Autumn subsides. “Better to tarry than to burn out, dear. Take it from someone much older than you.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Autumn says.

Patting Autumn’s hand again, Spring rises to her feet. “Find something you enjoy doing and do it. I myself have a husband waiting up for me, and three months ‘til I have to emerge.” She gives Autumn a wicked smile, and Autumn shudders. Spring looks _ancient_ , and so innocent. She waves as the scent of fresh blossoms fill the air, and then she’s gone, leaving Autumn in the meeting room alone. 

.

Autumn Ceres enrolls in a community college in a small northwestern city in the United States of America just in time for the spring semester. Everyone around her complains about the crazy winter that’s happening, the worst in years, but she just reads books and watches movies and fails a few tests _because she can_. 

Eventually, the winter recedes for spring, as it always does. The forecasters say it’ll be an easy summer. She remembers Summer’s glee and laughs. 

She still has six months, and she’s going to make the most of them.


End file.
